Don't Get Your Panties In A Twist
by roman paradise
Summary: Gaby and Solo are back late from a dangerous mission- Illya is worried. When Gaby returns, they are alone together and she explains, excitement ensues. Rated M for themes.


"ради бога!" Hissed Illya. it had been 14 hours, and Gaby hadn't returned from her mission with Solo yet, they had been asked to role-play as brother and sister- twins, really. 'Wherever she went, he went'. Illya wasn't required for this mission according to Waverly, which made him start tapping his finger on his thigh.

He wanted to be required, so he could make sure Gaby was okay. Of course, he wanted Cowboy to be safe also, but there was always a protective side of him for his little chop-shop girl. Sure, she could defend herself and she could tackle a man as tall as himself, as if he weighed nothing. But he always feared something extremely horrible would happen to her if she slipped into the wrong hands.

When he heard the door to the suite open, his head snapped up to see Gaby and Solo, covered in dirt and blood and sweat, it didn't look like they were injured badly, but he was still worried.

"What happened? Why are you back so late? Did something go wrong?" Illya asked hurriedly.

"There was a flaw in the plan, we'll discuss it later, on the other hand, I need to go and have a shower and get this… shit off of me, this jumper cost too much. Sleep well." He then quietly left.

Gaby cleared her throat, her voice hoarse from not being used, "I messed up, I blew cover, I'm so… Waverly isn't impressed…" She looked up at Illya with her doe eyes. "I-I'm going to go and draw a bath." Illya nodded in response and sat down on the sofa, re-starting his chess game, he couldn't focus on his last one because of his worry for his companions. He shrugged off his sweater-vest and rolled his shirt sleeves up past his elbows.

"Illya, I'm sorry." Gaby sighed. "Why were you so frantic when we came through the door?"

"I…I was worried about you and Cowboy, I couldn't hear anything coming from y-either of you from my hearing device and I thought something terrible had happened." Illya stuttered.

"He never stutters? What on earth is wrong with him?'' Thought Gaby.

"Well everything is okay, it will be okay, remember what you said on our last mission in Italy? 'I'll be close by'. Solo wouldn't have let me get seriously hurt, he kept an eye on me at all times, I had the tracker as well. We're both fine. I'm here now, right?" Gaby pressed, her hand on his forearm, her thumb moving in soothing circles across his warm skin and she slowly trailed them down so her hand rested in his as she slowly rested her forehead on his sinewy chest.

"Right…" He was trying hard to focus on her words, as her small hands soothed him, and his tapping finger stopped.

She gave a subtle smile up at him and moved so she could go and relax in her bath. As soon as her hand left his, it felt as if ice had spread over his body.

20 minutes later, Gaby had emerged from a cloud of steam seeping from the on-suite bathroom, clad in her simple blue button down pajamas. She towel dried her hair, brushed it and put it up into a pony tail at the back of her head, she turned on the wireless radio and sauntered over to the cabinet, she plucked two glasses from the bottom shelf and poured vodka into both.

"Drink?" She teased Illya with a smirk, remembering the first time she had.

"Da, only one, please." Answered Illya, still trying to focus on his chess game.

They both downed their drinks in one go, and exhaled deeply, "Illya, could you dance with me?" Gaby whispered, her eyes glossed over and staring at her feet. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'd be delighted, little chop-shop girl." Illya agreed, and a steady beat song had started playing on the radio as they shuffled to a clear space. He took her hands in his and guided her around the room, casually making her spin, KGB had taught him how to act like a gentleman, and luckily, dancing lessons came with the package. He wasn't half bad, though.

Her soft chuckles had made the corners of his mouth stick upwards and he couldn't help but laugh himself, her pony tail swishing as she craned her neck to look at him. His eyes were the Atlantic ocean, cold at times, but full of life.

Through the time they had spent together as a team, Illya couldn't help but look at her, he had mapped out her face, their unfinished kisses giving him a chance to notice the very few freckles that adorned the bridge of her nose, or the crease between her brows when she got frustrated, the curve of her full lips when he or Napoleon had said a funny remark and the way she slumped her shoulders when she was fatigued after a long mission.

Before he had realized, she stood on her tip-toes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. Her eyelashes fluttering as she waited for his response.

Oh, and did he respond.

His fingers had splayed gently across her waist as he deepened the let out a sigh as he parted her lips with his tongue and nipped at her bottom lip, as her tongue touched his he let out a soft groan as all the pent-up sexual frustration seeped out of both of them like steam.

"ich liebe dich." Gaby breathed, as he kissed along the column of her throat.

"я тоже тебя люблю, my little chop-shop girl." He whispered against her ear, as he led her to his bed.


End file.
